11pm and uncertain about oneself. Open window, leaning out a bit to catch a glimpse of the Moon, to feel some of her cold comforting light. So far the evening hesitates to cool down, neighbours are burning coal and wood in the backyards, the scent of smoke lures into believing in both winter and summer and a late life under vast skies. Also, missing the silence of the hills while at the same time admiring the random everyday sounds of the city hinting of people still awake nearby, no matter the hour. Different understandings of home, and a piano tune played to that while attention is wearing thin again. Have a peaceful night wherever you are.